Death and Pestilence
by Featherstorm27
Summary: Plague Knight works tirelessly to craft a potion for bringing back the dead, so he can use it to revive a man he killed so long ago. However, at his first meeting with the Order of No Quarter, he discovers something very shocking. (just warning you now, this fic contains yaoi.)
1. Chapter 1

Death and Pestilence-  
Chapter 1- Waking Up in the Morning

**Author's Note: Alright, well, I'm sure any fans of the awesome new game "Shovel Knight" on this site would not be expecting fanfiction of this game so early. Especially fanfiction that has absolutely nothing to do with Shovel Knight x Shield Knight. Thus, because this fic is going to be a yaoi (between Specter and Plague Knight at that) then I'm sorry for being *cough cough* **_**that**_** person. But I love this ship dearly, so if you don't like it, then don't read it guys. But anyways, enjoy!**

**Also, Shovel Knight and its characters are property of Yacht Club games, so I don't own any of them. **

"AHHHHHH! Someone- ANYone...HEEEELP!"

Screaming, hacking, weeping: a chorus of cacophony that I've come to know and love so much...

"ARGHHH! *cough cough* Y-you..fu-ucking..g-godforSAKEN...vile- *cough cough*"

...Except for when it left me terrified, petrified, empty, and in a cold sweat in my study. Gasping for breath, I slowly picked my head up from a puddle of purple elixir. Shards of glass lay scattered around my desk, some even making themselves at home lodged within the skin of my pale, sickly, crow feather-covered flesh.

"Delightful." I grumbled to myself as I rose from my chair. The legs creaked and moaned against the cold, stony floor. "Simply...deeelightful!" I chirped, and with a lightning-quick flick of my wrist, I threw the bloody pieces of glass onto the floor. "BOOM! Hee, hee!" I giggled as they shattered into myriads of minuscule little fragments.

Standing there for a minute, I hummed to myself. "Hmmm...well." I looked to the glass shards and the blood dripping from my arm on the floor to the broken vial and all its spilled elixir soiling my desk. "It seems as though I've made a mess. A big, big mess." I whispered to myself, breaths puffing in disease-riddled exhalations. I scratched my burned head and unshaven chin with a gloved hand. I had woken up again from the same, blasted, horrifying nightmare (which I still cannot believe immortals can have! How plebeian!), and in my sleep, it seemed, I assaulted the concoction I had been working on before I hit the sack.

Perhaps my aide was correct when he said I shouldn't work so late, since I needed sleep (which is another thing I cannot believe immortals require!). And speaking of my rotten aide...

"ROoooOODNEeeY~!" I squawked, the throat-grating loudness of which almost tipping my tiny self over.

After what seemed like _ages_ later (actually a few minutes) a tall, aged man draped in a violet wizard's cloak and his own long, smoke-gray beard ambled into the room. Using his bushy beard and robe to protect his mouth and nose from the sickness I radiated, he walked in on me licking the blood off my arms. "You called, I believe, sir Plague Knight?"

"Oh hush with the formalities."

"I'm afraid that if I do, you'll hex me with something foul."

"Hex? HEX?" I shrieked. "What the devil do you take me for, a WIZARD?! I'm a SCIENTIST, you clod! A chemist, an alchemist, a demolitionist- call me whatever you wish, but if it implies that I utilize silly 'magic' in any way then so help me..." My nightmare did not leave me in a good mood.

"My apologies, sir..-"

"Hex, HA...answer me this, Raymond. Does it look like I dance around with a bogus, rotting wooden stick and chant 'hocus pocus!' to turn my foes into frogs?"

My aide's eyelids twitched. "Um...no sir. Although you do have a rotting wooden cane-"

"You're damned right, no!" I interrupted. "Because I have method, knowledge, and intelligence, Ronny. I don't play with ideas, like magic, that have no actual substance or reason behind them, that cannot be developed into stronger implements and weapons. I utilize materials and chemicals that can be manipulated, and that I know how to manipulate in order to create bigger and better elixirs, explosives, and inventions. I work with real chemicals, real formulas, real...ARGG...and what do you mean you 'believe' I called you in here?"

"What?" The ancient yet sprightly man jumped up in shock, and his reaction made me realize just how much I had been seething. "Oh…well…you summoned a 'Rodney'; I figured you simply got my name incorrect again and came anyways."

I frowned, and looked down to the scattered glass on the floor. Perhaps I should formulate an elixir to remedy bad memory. "I...Erm...oh. I'm so sorry, friend. What was your name again?"

The wizard laughed a laugh which seemed to shake the room. "Goodness, lad. I'm starting to suspect that, although you've preserved you're body to be young, your mind is still very old! And my name is Robert."

"Oh. Ha...yes, of course, Robert. How about I call you Rob to help remember it?"

"Call me whatever you wish, sir. Though keep in mind, that is exactly what you said the last time, yet my ears heard a Rodney just now."

"Oh...hee, hee...my bad. Anyways, could you be so kind as to clean up my mess of glass, here? I believe I broke a vial in my sleep again." I mumbled, embarrassed, and rubbed the sleep out of my baggy eyes. "Thank you."

Robert smiled under that beard of his. "Of course, sir, that won't be a problem." He walked over to a supply closet in the opposite room and grabbed a broom. When he returned, I was trying to save as much of my potion as I could in another empty bottle. He chuckled at my furious scrambling. "Oh dear, good sir. I do hope that potion is worth losing sleep over."

That struck another nerve within me. I shivered in a boiling rage, almost dropping my bottle. "What?! Are you mad- this concoction is worth more than a million good night's rests, Robert, and you KNOW that! In fact, once I perfect it, I'll be able to have hours, maybe even days, of healthy, uninterrupted sleep. Once I-"

"Yes, yes, once you revive the corpse (which is no doubt now a bleached pile of bones) of that man you slew so, so long ago, you'll be able to cast off your nightmares and guilt. I realize what you desire, sir Plague Knight, but I cannot fathom why you have spent five years trying to create a potion to bring back the dead." He noted as he began to sweep up the glass off the floor.

"Because that man was...nay...IS an angel, Robert!" I began, casting cares to the wind. "Long, flowing blonde hair, a perfectly chiseled body, a handsome face, the deepest blue eyes..."

"Hah, that's new! Well if you think so highly of the dead man, then why don't you just marry him?" He replied jokingly.

"Well...yes. Actually, I think after I revive him, I will do just that."

The wizardly elder's smile fell. He stared at me in bewilderment, then amusement. "If this is your attempt to one-up me, then kudos to you. If not, then...I won't even begin to describe how peculiar that was, but why on earth would the person you killed want to marry you?"

I sighed, shrugging. "I...well, I don't know. Just wishful thinking." I held my bottle timidly, sidestepping away from the desk as Rob began to clean there. I knew how others needed their space from my aura of ailments.

"I don't understand." He pitched, sweeping up stray glass in a dustbin. "You terminate an abundance of people every day. Hell, you've even decimated whole villages with your pestilence- and for sport too. So why does the death of one man matter so much to you? One measly little farmer's son. It can't only be because you find him...attractive, and strangely so."

I opened my mouth to speak, but it ran dry without explanation. I didn't know why I found that man to be so incredibly gorgeous when I first laid eyes upon him. I supposed when I was actually younger (and not decades old but under the influence of a youth potion, as I am now) I fell for some people, but when I became the monstrous, disease-laden scientist I was now, my romantic desires curbed. So what was wrong with me?! Were my haywire hormones a result of my youth potion acting up?

Or were these past five years of regret, melancholy, heartache, and slaving over a hot cauldron for the right death-reversing elixir a result of...actual love?

I looked down at my puny hands, and cradled my face in one of them. I couldn't explain it- to myself, to anyone- why I worked so hard and so relentlessly to do the impossible, and on a man I only knew for ten minutes tops, at that. And on the same note, how could pestilence, a bringer of death, give life?

"I...I truly don't know, Robert."

"Well, when you figure it out, then tell me because I would love to know. And on the topic of your horrid memory, do not forget of your meeting on the morrow!"

"M-meeting...tomorrow? When did I- OH yes now I remember; the meeting, er, orientation, with the Order?"

"Yes, friend, the Order who lacks Quarter. You were just accepted into their league the other day..."

"Yes, by the Enchantress! To spread plague and evil across the lands, and even the world! Hee, hee! What a delightful ambition!" I jumped up and down a little, sending stray feathers spiraling to the floor.

Robert laughed at my childish enthusiasm. "Oh definitely, sir Plague Knight. Now if you'll excuse me, I shall acquire the mop with which I shall clean your blood."

"Oh, blood?" I glanced down at the floor and giggled. "...Hee hee hee...I almost forgot about that!"

The bearded old man, shaking his head, left quickly and returned with the mop. He shook his head and clicked his tongue. "My my, what I don't understand is how you can take all kinds of damage and wounds, yet remain unaffected and not feel pain. That's a gift."

"Well, I suppose but that's not entirely true. It stings a little, I just heal fast. I have a lot of bacteria in this body- maybe they help me heal quickly." I suggested. By then my wounds had closed up, leaving only little scabs.

"Perhaps, though the thought of it is simply absurd."

"Mayhap it's because you're a wizard, and not a scientist, hmm?" I jested.

Robert burst out laughing, which seemed to shake the room again as if he were in his yeti form. "Oh, slander not my magic, sir! It may not be much but it's the thought that counts." Once the floor was spotless, he began to return the mop to the supply closet.

"Heh heh heh, sure, sure. I cannot stop you from being convinced (or from using my own potions to do battle, hee, hee). Anyways, thank you for helping me. And good luck with your research." I encouraged.

"Thank you, sir! The same goes to you, my friend." He said, and left back to his quarters.

Alone now, I returned to crafting my potion. Like any old day, it was simply agonizing. I adjusted formulas and materials, yet nothing I produced could revive my test subject: a dead purple phoenix (that probably flew too close to its bombs). I thought that I could base the new concoction loosely off the one I used to give myself immortality, but not even that would work. It was futile, I knew, yet I would never give up. Not until the day I would die (meaning forever, because I could never die and join him. I had already attempted suicide countless times beforehand).

I sighed, a puff of smoke having blown up in my face from a finished mixture. I poured some down the bird's gullet. It's throat twitched, but it was just a muscular reaction, I knew.

With exhausted, baggy eyes that kept falling into slumber's eager claws, I gazed up at a window from my elixirs and the phoenix's carcass (probably just a bird, actually. It hadn't risen from its ashes yet). As a solemn moon rose into a dreary indigo sky, I yawned loudly. Moonlight shone down harshly onto the corpse. Of course my eyes were drawn to those shining, purpley-black feathers, not lacking their luster even against the sweet decay. I pondered the dying thing, and recalled a thought which I had considered before. Grief flooded over me.

What if my love was too long gone in the clutches of death to be revived by any potion? What if his body could not be healed due to a long period of decomposition in his burial? What if he still wished to kill me even in death?

"ARGGHHH!" I roared, drowning in a sea of 'what if's'. I slammed my head against the desk to force the thoughts out of my head. Yet it was fruitless, so I raged and squawked around the study, punching walls with my little fists and tossing around papers and books like a small child throwing a tantrum over a toy he couldn't have. I was enraged, as I was every night, with myself and with my incompetence.

When my short, little body couldn't take any more of that furious exertion, I padded over to my room and plopped onto my nigh unused, still made bed. Taking Robert's advice to actually get some decent rest, I closed my eyes and was out like a light.

**A/N 2: Just to clear anything up now, I imagine that Plague Knight would not be wearing his mask half the time, and have half his hair burnt off because he's so clumsy. So it'll be like those guys who shave off half their hair and leave some on the other side to curl around their scalp. Hoped you liked this, dear readers, and the next chapter should be coming out soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 2- A Walk in the Yard

When I turned around to face the source of that horrid, crackling noise, my vision blurred. The eyeholes of my doctor's mask were clouded by thick, violet smoke and flames. Beads of sweat ran down my cheeks and neck. I could only scarcely see the man through the explosion's sickly veil. Yet his weak, growling voice pervaded.

"Y-you and your DAMNED tricks." His words assaulted me like sharpened sickles trying to gouge out my heart. "You're a useless, repulsive, reclusive MONSTER; the hollow shell of a man!"

Those cruel quotes shook my fragile mind like a ravenous earthquake. Awaking with a fright and a slight migraine, it seemed also that my haywire tremors had shaken me half out of my bed.

"Guh...how long have I been upside down?" I groaned, and in response came a pitter-patter of paws, accompanied by a shocked squeak. It seemed the denizens of the Explodatorium knew not their lord, and a sickly rat had been nibbling on my burned dome piece. No wonder I had such a throbbing headache.

"What do you think you're doing?! Scram, you rotten scoundrel!" I roared and flailed about. A wild little hand collided with the green mouse, causing it to unfortunately explode with a surprised squeal. "ARG, NO- dammit!" Unable to maintain my balance, my legs fell off the bed with a crash. My blanket slithered down with it. After struggling and thrashing out of the blanket for quite some time, I finally freed myself. I sighed. "Wonderful." I muttered, with less feigned enthusiasm than before.

"Hee..." I threw the blanket off of me and then stood up with shaky legs, laughing almost maniacally. "Ehee hee hee hee heeee...oh damn, wait!" I exclaimed. "The Order-, the meeting is today, I think!" I hopped over to my study, and peered at my stained desk calendar. "Today is Monday, I know that for sure, and..." with a taloned finger, I located today. However, it seemed that Tuesday was the day starred and labeled, 'meet with Order at noon' rather than Monday.

I huffed, puzzled now. Was it actually Tuesday, and my gut informed me wrong? Or was it actually Monday, and Robert was wrong? Who knew for sure?

And of course, who else but Robert himself? The wizardly old man approached me, causing me to freeze up in surprise. "So it seems that the meeting was actually tomorrow, then?" He murmured, glancing over my shoulder.

"HA! I knew I wasn't entirely forgetful!"

"Quite. What a shame."

"Who needs a memory potion, now? Hee, hee...that'll teach you to doubt your Knight."

"So it shall." He took defeat well. "Now...what the devil happened earlier?"

"Er...what?" I cawed.

"I heard explosions and a ruckus in your room! What in the world-"

"Lab Rats."

"Oh. Of course."

"Now, if you'll excuse me...I'll be taking a walk today." I said, snatching my mask and padding over to the window of my study. Morning light filtered through the dusty glass.

"Really? Good, you need more Vitamin D."

"Oh hush," I snapped open the window, and wrapped the mask around my marred scalp. "And clean up my room or something." I joked, then jumped out of the window. My laboratory and explosive industry, the Explodatorium, stood stories high over the peaceful, forested landscape like a grim sentry or morbid obelisk. Its smokestacks and structures etched their way into a tranquil sky, poisoning it with emissions of sickness and soot. But I cared not for that, and only slightly cut down on my pollution as a result of guilt for the man I had killed so long ago.

The way down was long, steep, and merciless; gusts of wind and stray smoke assaulted my mask as I plummeted downward. Times like these had always made me regret not having actual, practical wings. Nevertheless, the process of changing my skeletal and integumentary structures into that of a crow's (the emblem of my specialty, plague) was tedious and nearly impossible. I had to thin my bones to make them more aerodynamic (hence why I am so small and lithe) and force my skin to grow crow feathers. However, I couldn't get the potion to work right, as it did for Robert's yeti transformation, so it only left me half-way. I was tiny and had some motley feathers, yet not enough to form functional wings out of my arms. It was a problem that I could easily smooth out with a little bit of thought and effort, but my project was put aside for more pressing matters.

And today, I intended to visit the cause of said 'pressing matters.'

Approaching the charred earth at a near-death velocity, I calculated my distance. About...two hundred feet, perhaps? Close enough to use my teleportation ability (no, not the result of magic!), whizzing me out of the air and onto the floor. Due to transferred potential energy or molecular discrepancies, the landing was rough and I tripped anyways.

I cackled, pulling the cane out of my robe to retrieve my footing. "Hee, hee, that's always fun." I mumbled to myself. "Better than taking all those damned stairs!"

Once I could maintain my footing, I stashed my cane away and hopped over to my destination. To accelerate I took the route of the canopy, clearing the underbrush with one sprightly spring and landing among tall, sturdy oaks. Gliding past those bushes of the sky, the world below seemed to rush by. I wasn't in a hurry, but there was nothing like a good, enthusiastic walk to get your blood pumping! Hee, hee! 

Several minutes flew by. Grassy undergrowth became more earthen and stony, and the trees lifeless and black. Finally one branch could not take my weight, and it cracked. I lost my balance and plummeted to the ground with it. But, as always, I had a good laugh about it, and didn't mind the fall at all. An attitude of the sort proved how strong and resilient I was in spite of my frail appearance. And besides, I was where I wanted to be.

Although this terrain was more lively (if you can call it that) and charming at night, I still preferred to be here during the day. Silly ghosts didn't try to frighten me, and only patrolled the living world as hazy images during the day. The sun rendered them powerless.

And besides, I thought as a caw sounded near me, there were more pretty crows here during the day! Sometimes they would hop next to me and eye me curiously, convinced due to my peculiar scent that I was a crow as well. Some would perch on my shoulder, and others would fly around me. I grinned at the one currently perched on a cross-shaped gravestone. I held out my arm and cawed. It took the hint and flew onto my forearm, talons grasping tightly. I caressed its soft, shimmering black plumes. I had always loved such sweet, destructive animals as crows and rats. Being a recluse at heart, interacting with them was all I needed as a child, all I needed now. Although they didn't have much to say, their presence still pleased me. Especially this one's, who would accompany me to a very special grave.

…Which was a few paces away, actually. I could always recognize how I marked the earth where my dead beauty lay in a heartbeat. Although I knew it should've been his parents' job to bury their son, I was vindictive against his fool of a father for sending him on a death mission, and held my own damn funeral. So I fabricated a coffin of metal and blew a six-foot deep hole out of the earth to bury him in. A raven-black, imposing obelisk fashioned from stone marked his grave. Its shadow cast in my direction like a sundial, and combined with how unnatural the marker was in the Lich Yard, the crow in my hands was scared off.

"No, don't leave!" I croaked, but the bird was already sky high. With a disapproving sigh, I stepped before the spiked gravestone and ran a hand down its polished marble face. The flowers from my last visit had long since grayed and shriveled up in the sun. As I stood there relishing in the moment, another migraine wracked my brain. "Damn..." I grumbled, and walked back a few steps. I could've sworn I felt a presence behind me, but I cast it off as a little ghost.

I ground my teeth, rubbing my temples. "Perhaps it's time to return home." I grumbled as scenes from my battle with the farmer's son flashed into my conscious mind. I didn't know why my brain chose then of all times to dig the event out of my subconscious. Before I knew it, tears trickled down my pallid cheeks at the memory of my sickness laying waste to the poor man's weak mortal frame. Some tears were absorbed by the flowers' remains, but not even that could restore their verdancy and vivaciousness.

I turned around and solemnly began to walk home. That was enough heartache for the day. Shady apparitions swirled around me eagerly, trying to siphon energy from my pain. I swatted them away with my cane, squawking intimidatingly. They shied away with somber moans.

On my way to the Explodatorium I snagged a crow for fun experiments. Perhaps I'd make it an electrocuting crow like Treasure Knight's eels rather than a burning crow. Anything to clear my mind of the man I had killed; the only one I've ever loved.


	3. Chapter 3

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 3: Dreams and Nightmares

"Sorcerer of the deathly plagues, show yourself!" Boomed a voice, loud and proud. It wavered not, it feared none. I shuddered.

"Come face me; quit hiding, you pathetic excuse for a knight! I know you're in here, rotting in your filthy heaps of chemicals and corpses! You sick, cock-faced bastard, SHOW YOUSELF!"

I could no longer take his slanders. Enraged but calm, I leaped from my hiding place above my study bookcases, landing squarely behind this blonde imbecile. Dust shot up in my wake.

"Eh, heh heh heh!" The man gasped. I readied a bomb from my robe and lifted my cane up threateningly. "Hee hee...another hapless fool tries to challenge...m-me..." I faded out, enthralled wholeheartedly by this man's appearance. When he turned to face me I lost it. His deep, blue eyes opened wide with subtle fear; his full, chapped lips parted slightly to catch a quick breath; his tanned yet fair white skin glistened in the moonlight, bedecked in unbefitting rural apparel. The moment's image burned into my mind, everlasting.

...And slipped away like a golden fish from a fisherman. Pain suddenly flared through my chest, (but very weakly as those senses were dulled) as the young farmhand took a swing at me. "I'll show you who's the fool, you heinous pest!" I teetered on my short legs until my cane stabilized me. "You hazardous, good-for-nothing devil, not only have you been harassing and murdering innocent villagers with your bleak illnesses and diseases, but your viral dispersions have also been devastating my father's, my family's, and my village's crops! You need to..." I pouted as I watched the young man complain with unrestrained fury (and for what? I wasn't a king, I was a knight. And definitely not King Knight- that would be even worse). How sad it was to see such a handsome face marred by a scowling frown and furrowed brows. "...or I will be forced to smite you with my-"

"Hee, hee...did you think of all that on the way here?" I interrupted in jest in an attempt to brighten myself up, if not also the man as well. "Or did your father pitch you those long-winded lines, perhaps?"

Note to self: such slanderous banter would not work as intended. He took an intimidating battle stance and roared. "You twisted son of a shrew! Do you not know what it means to be a knight and have chivalry? Have you no honor, mercy, nor care for others, as a true knight should?"

I didn't respond at first, feeling as dejected as a puppy berated by its master. Then, with a weak smile, I mumbled trying not to show weakness. "I may not follow the code of 'chivalry,' but I do follow the code of...hee, hee...'sick-alry.'"

The blond seemed to be boiling in the kettle over that one, yet he progressively developed a smile. Was I finally infiltrating his stern facade? "Oh...do you, now? Well that's funny because," he whipped out two sickles from his bag. My eyes widened behind the bird mask. "So do I. Except it's more like SICKLERY!" He yelled, swinging his dual tools at me with expert grace. It sliced through my robe and an arm with which I guarded myself, drawing some blood. The infected crimson specks spattered onto the floor and the young man's barely protected flesh. Hissing burns sounded as the tainted areas on his gorgeous skin bubbled.

"GRAAAHHH!" The farmhand roared in pain, dropping his grain-gathering weapons. His agonized screams pierced not only my ears, but also my heart. "You m-monster!"

I hopped back a few steps, scared for his life. I wanted in no way for this to get ugly. "Sir...please leave now, while you still have your life. I do not wish to kill yOU!" I hastily skipped away from the man, who attempted to tackle me. "Sir, leave, I pray! This is a battle you cannot win! I'm sorry, but I cannot revive your dead crops. I can, however, cut down on my chemical exhausts and wastes if I must, and-"

"I DON'T CARE!" My assailant declared, grabbing the sickles he let fall to the floor. I was surprised by how much vigor he had in spite of his infections. He charged at me again, blades swinging. I jumped over him, and mid-air kicked him onto the floor none too gently. With a grunt he shot right back up and threw a sickle at me, which sunk into my shoulder. I winced. He seemed surprised at my resistance, but only for a split second. "I don't care what you do, you bastard! It's what you've DONE that counts, and I intend to have my vengeance for it!"

I held up my hands in surrender and backed away slowly, tossing the sickle to the ground. Fighting this innocent man would tear my black heart apart. "Listen, friend, this isn't the smart thing to do-"

"FRIEND? Frien- N-NO!" he had a brief hacking fit, definitely as a result of being around me for so long. "Y-..you are my FOE and y-your *cough, cough* reign of plague and pestilence will end, you foul, pungent d-demon! Now I may not be a knight, and I am in no way chivalrous or honorable, but I demand you to stop being a coward and fight me like a man; like a _real_ knight!" He baited, then dashed at me with lightning-fast speed and slashed me with a trenchant sickle, jumping away just in time for my blood to miss him. The weapon sliced open my chest, but only barely since my robe was thick. It would heal easily.

I hopped back to a far wall of my study. Yet the farmhand was relentless, and charged for me again. "Damnit..." I muttered underneath my doctor's mask. I instinctually pulled a bomb out of my robe. Yet I hesitated. This man had no armor whatsoever; there was no way he could withstand my chemical explosives.

Nevertheless, he was getting closer, and although I knew his sickles couldn't kill me, my human instincts panicked. I sidestepped his attack and threw a bomb at his feet. As it left my hand I instantly regretted it, covering the eyeholes of my mask. I couldn't bear to see how maimed his body would become.

Then came the screams. Wails of agony so loud, they could rival a banshee's. And the smoke-choked coughing and wheezing didn't sound any better.

With fleeting sanity and tear-stained eyes, I looked up with a morbid curiosity (and to protect myself lest he could still attack). A thick veil of smoke and purple sparks rose around the toppling body of my blond assassin. In a moment of passion I ran over to help him, but he suddenly sprung to his feet and rushed for me again. "Y-you and your DAMNED tricks." His words stabbed me like sharpened knives, and the pain of his sickles. "You're a useless, repulsive, reclusive monster; the hollow shell of a man!"

This was definitely some kind of abusive obsession, but regardless of his words I still felt sympathy for the man, strangely enough. No matter what he said to me, I didn't want to hurt him more than I already had. I kept hopping back, trying to throw bombs near his location to scare him away.

"Once I kill you, I'll hang your masked head on my wall, and feed your rotting corpse to felons!" He growled with a staggering voice, and stumbled into a coughing fit from my sickness and the bomb smoke.

"That...that doesn't even make sense!" I squawked. "And you're not going to kill me just as much as I'm not going to kill...y-you..."

And within half a second the sickle-wielder collapsed onto the floor, hacking out blood. His skin and face were swelling up with hives and pustules, and his breathing was labored. Shocks of sound exploded and echoed about the vast study with his constant coughing. Once his throat was cleared, he rasped. "F-fine...I surrender."

I perked up. "Wonderful!" I chirped, but frowned again once I received an eyeful of his current state.

"H-...how..*cough, cough* in God's name..d-did I already get sick?"

"My being is rampant with all kinds of viruses, bacteria, opportunistic infections- things you've never heard of from my laboratory research and even the most foreign of lands." I began worriedly as he kept on coughing. "You've gotten too close to me, breathed too much of my miasma. I told you, this was a battle you'd never win. No matter how many slashes and wounds you etch into me, you'll still end up dying. And I'm sorry. I tried to warn you-."

"H-help me..." He rasped, gripping his neck tight to loosen up his trachea. His flesh was turning a sickly chartreuse color. "I...can...n-not...breathe..."

"Alright wait, don't talk!" I hated that there was nothing to do to save this beautiful man, but could I give him a medicinal drug to keep his pain or illnesses at bay, perhaps? I got on my feet and immediately scurried to my alchemical lab. "Do I even have medicine?!" I screamed, incredibly frantic, tossing around elixirs and potions when the labels were hidden or illegible. I found a remedy for colds but he clearly had more than a cold! Nonetheless, I grabbed those and a few more potions and antibiotics for mild ailments. Nothing that would prevent his death, but prolong his life, albeit slightly.

I hastened back to the struggling man, almost dropping my remedies. By now he was on his hands and knees, swollen and trembling, gasping for air. I ran to his side and grabbed hold of his mouth, attempting to imbibe those potions into him. But he was faster.

"Although my heart is so black to inter bodies daily, and deny the aid of a defeated foe..." he croaked, seizing the beak of my mask. I froze, and the vials in my hands crashed to the ground. "...yours is blacker. And although you c-claim *cough* to mean well," he removed the mask from my face, pausing to scan my youthful, yet pallid, features and smile. My heart fluttered. Shimmering harshly, his blue eyes seemed to chill to a shade more pale and icy. "I kn-now you are going to return to devastating the land and its pe- *cough, wheeze* -ople after I die, as father told me when he assigned me this job. S-so I have no reason..." He viciously slammed my face against the mess of glass and liquid on the floor. With a flick of his wrist he ground my face against the shards, cutting it up in a plethora of places. My heart bled with it. It actually hurt. "To leave you alive, and shall k-kill you- no matter what- with my last...d-dying...brEATH…GRAAAH!" And suddenly he released me, along with the sickle he was going to utilize to hack off my head. It clattered to the floor with a dull thrum.

I got up off the ground rapidly, blood pooling out of my face and into all the spilled potions on the floor. I was going to try and give the assassin what was left of them but that scrapped my idea. And the fact that he was breaking out with all kinds of irreversible pustules and cutaneous conditions. In any other circumstance, this would've been hilarious or even enjoyable to see. However, I felt incredibly guilty. Like I should have done something but could not.

"G-GodDAMN YOU! SHIT- it burns!" He roared, falling over onto his side. "Damn...AHHHHHH! Someone- ANYone...HEEEELP!"

'I tried, man.' I thought to myself as tears spilled from my eyes.

"ARGHHH! *cough cough* Y-you..fu-ucking..g-godforSAKEN...vile- *cough cough*  
E-excuse f-for a...kn-...ight."

Such were his final words, used to spit out the rest of his own life and blood.

~~~

I awoke with a cold shiver running through my body. I struggled to free myself from the blanket which confined me, but my flailing made me realize I was on the floor again.

With a sigh, I calmly wiggled out of the blanket and slung it onto the bed. I ambled out of my room and into my vast, library of a study. Why in the world was I having these recurrent dreams about that pretty farmhand (or, assassin, I suppose)? Why did the gruesome battle I fought with him choose now, almost five years later, to resurface into my subconscious realm of dreams? I tried so hard to repress it!

A shocked caw permeated my thoughts. I turned to look at the caged Lich Yard crow, which was flapping its wings wildly and shooting out jolts of electricity. I walked over to where it was held on my desk. I couldn't resist caressing its glistening feathers to toss away my concerns and thoughts. Yet I forgot too quickly of its treatment and static ravaged my body. It stung! _That's a grade-A enemy if there ever was one!_, I thought, cackling.

I turned my head to look out the window. Unexpectedly, it was still night time, but more inclined to the early hours of the new day. Which meant that I should've gotten some more sleep for the meeting at noon.

On my way back to my room (I couldn't resist petting the cute little crow again) a thought came to mind. What if the nightmares return after I close my eyes? My good mood left me, and I thought of that man again. A growl rumbled in my throat and I punched my bedroom door. "No, no, NO!" I hissed, and turned back around. I hated thinking these uncomfortable thoughts which plagued me as I do to others. I needed to be liberated from them. I needed to toy more with that crow on my desk. It should be able to harness its electrical energy, anyways, and choose when and on what to release its energy.


	4. Chapter 4

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 4: A Knight to Remember

**A/N: DAMN it's been a long time since I've updated this shit. And doesn't it warm my heart to see how people received this! *cough*poorly*cough***

**Oh well. I guess it's expected from an esoteric game and a quirky writing style. Anyways, to those of you who've stuck with this story all the way to this fourth chapter, congratulations and thank you! Also, I'd totally love to hear reviews from you guys. My writing in general is experimental, even for my other fanfics. So if you have anything to say about how I write or this story, I'd be totally receptive of it. (Unless it's unconstructive, then I don't really see the point in that). Thanks, and enjoy!**

"Sir Plague Knight? Have you been up since dawn? Why are you awake this early in the morning?"

"Early to me, late for you, old man. Hee, hee...why is that so unbelievable? I'm really into this new project."

"Yes, very much so, I presume, enough to scarcely miss your meeting." Said my long-bearded aide.

"...Wait...what?" I peered out the window. The sun was burning aloft in the sky. I hopped out of the chair and donned my robe. "Rats! Why didn't you warn me sooner?!" Robert shrugged. "What time is it?"

The wizardly man glanced at a grandfather clock near the door, then back to me. "Erm...eleven thirty, sir. My goodness, you look exhausted! Did you get any sleep?"

"Hardly, but that's what the mask is for." I joked, slapping said mask onto my face. I climbed up the windowsill and opened the window. "Watch my crow for me. It would be a terrible shame if she electrocuted the place! Hee, hee..."

"Blast, Plague Knight, must you be so adamantly against taking the stairs?!"

"Of course, what kind of person would I be if I weren't? Farewell 'til later, Rob." With that, I jumped out of the window accompanied by my aide's disapproving curses. In a matter of minutes I teleported onto the floor, and dashed towards the east of the continent. To a place which some refer to as the "end of the world": the Tower of Fate. The charmingly dark citadel with a plasma-green sky and eternal precipitation would be where my meeting was held at noon. Today I would finally meet in person the knights whom I've only heard of before. A ragtag group of seven other ne'er-do-wells who enjoy spreading evil and destruction onto these once peaceful lands. The Enchantress, whose 'magic' (as she distastefully calls it) has sealed the people of this vast region to a cruel fate under her boundless, demonic power, had hired us to distract a certain traveler (what was his name again? Spade...guy?) from foiling her plots. She collectively called us the "Order of No Quarter," or something silly of the sort.

I giggled to myself, walking contently down a road. I didn't have to rush yet, and odds were those other notorious villains probably felt the same way. If there was anything a bad guy was bad at, it was being prompt! Or maybe that was just me-

"WHOA WATCH OUT, RICHMOND- wait it's just an old man, never mind!" Suddenly I could hear loud footsteps behind me, followed by concerned whinnies and huffs. A puff of air and dust surrounded me like a veil as a huge horse with gilded armor and riding gear slammed onto the dirt road before me. It neighed and shifted to face me with sympathetic eyes, much to the annoyance of its similarly gilded rider. "HEY, Richmond, HURRY FORTH, lest I miss my appointment for brunch! Did I not just allow you to just run over this old man?! He probably would've keeled over tomorrow anyhow...oh pardon me, you're a medic in robes."

"Close." I tossed my cane around in my hand and did a little jig, showing off to this impudent wealthy man how I could move with ease. "I'm still young, and I am not a doctor. Hee, hee, quite the contrary, actually. I bestow plagues onto the unwitting rather than heal them." I pulled out a syringe from my belt and pressed on the trigger threateningly, letting its glowing green contents drip to the floor. It left a small sink hole in the dry dirt road below. "Care for a demonstration, arrogant one?"

The heavily-armored man's horse whinnied nervously, retreating hoof by hoof. The man showed a similar change in demeanor, fiddling with the crown on his head. "Oh heavens no, keep that vile...whatever it is...away from me!"

"Hee, hee, hee..." I had a feeling this fool would be fun to toy with. And also that he was the same regal, throne-usurping knight I thought him to be. "...Only if you give me a ride. I have a place to be as well."

"What?! No I most definitely shall NOT, you dreadful, tiny elf! I'd much rather drag you by a rope of 50 paces off the tail of my horse than have you situated anywhere near me! Now DEPART before I run over your leprous carcass as planned!"

Harsh words from a stranger. "...You can try. Hee, hee." I hopped around his horse, unsettling the skittish beast more and making it dance to avoid me. Its rider grunted in irritation.

"Why you little VERMIN...fine then, I'm in front of you, anyways!" Said the gilded man. His armor glittered from curious sunbeams as he ordered his horse to advance.

But how could I simply let this ass go free? In one sprightly bound, I leapt in front of his speeding horse. It stopped suddenly, rearing up and neighing in distress. The resplendent knight slid off his horse and tumbled onto the road unceremoniously.

With an eerie cackle, I stepped over to the grounded man and poked his breastplate with my cane. "Hee, hee...so how about that ride?" I pestered him. With an angry grumble, the crowned knight rose up off the ground and roughly seized me in his arms, bridal style.

"Oh my...how romantic, hee, hEY!" I joked, but only to be thrown onto the back of his horse without care.

"Shut it, you obnoxious little hobo." The man mounted his horse. "Now where the hell do you want to go so I can make my meeting in time?!" he growled, urging on Richmond with a nasty slap of the reins. The horse sped off in the east direction. "Dammit, if my gryphon wasn't still suffering from bellyache I would be there by now...how about to the next village? You could harass some people there or something."

"Hmm...no, how about I tell you when we're close by?"

"...Fine. Macabre elf." He grumbled to himself, but only to be whacked on the helmet by my cane.

~~~

At full speed with the haughty knight's horse, we were only late to the meeting by ten minutes. I informed the man to keep his helmet on at all times when around me given my aura of sicknesses. By the way he laughed, I could tell he didn't believe I even had such a power. But sure enough, realization dawned on his thick skull when I did not tell him to stop until we reached the tower of fate's gruesome gates.

"Alright, sir, thank you kindly. This is indeed the place I wanted to be."

"What...but how can that be...WAIT, are you also an evil knight?!" He inquired, parking his horse next to an insane-looking, striped jousting tank.

"Hee, hee, hee...quite, I am-"

"But how can that _be_?! You're so puny and frail and hideous!" He exclaimed with a melodramatic gasp. I whacked him again, faster than he could counter with his tacky scepter.

"Hush, you blundering oaf! We have a meeting, remember? Most of the knights are already here." I hissed, extending a palm to denote the various vehicles and methods of transportation present: the tank, a monstrous timber wolf, and a glamorous flying machine. And who knows who else was already here.

The knight sighed, and began walking into the tower. "My sincerest apologies than, ally. I suppose I gained the wrong impression of you. I am King Knight, by the way."

"I gathered. I'm Plague Knight."

King Knight face-palmed. "Oh bother, of course you are! All the clues were there; what a fool I am to have not deduced that sooner!"

"Hee, hee, I gathered that as well." Suddenly the earth shook, and the ground below them cracked. Huge, orange-striped claws pierced the lifeless earth. A portly being in crimson red armor exploded out of his hole, shooting up dirt and dead grass like an erupting volcano. "Sweet ANCIENTS I'm late I'm late _I'm late_!" The knight explained, hurrying into the citadel like a chicken with its head cut off.

"...I say we should follow suit." King Knight said, but I was already hopping after the red knight. With a fed-up groan, the usurper stomped after us.


	5. Chapter 5

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 5- The Bruncheon

"Greetings, knights." Said a certain violet sorceress to me and whom I assumed to be Mole Knight. "Given this is your first day and everyone else was just as late as you, I will pardon your tardiness. But just this once." Her eyes glowed evilly. "A deadline is a deadline, as you are aware. If this happens again, the price will be more severe than expulsion."

I giggled, but Mole Knight shuddered. "Y-yes your highness!" He squealed, then dashed as fast as he could into the dining room. I walked in behind him, but the Enchantress stopped me with a clawed hand.

"And you...dare you mock me? Know your place, Plague Knight."

"Ha...hee hee hee...I don't have to bow to my equal. What an asinine thing to do."

The ghastly woman cocked her head to the side, then smiled. "Oh? A man with backbone...how marvelous. I chose well, I believe." She said, waving to King Knight as he passed by and hissing to him not to be late next time. Then to me, "Or...perhaps I forgot to inform you of the great magical power I possess?" She said, sparking up a vibrant purple flare in her hand.

I laughed. "Ha! I am aware of that, however there is no 'magic' in not knowing what you're doing. Sorcery is a fool's endeavor. All you do is repeat the spells of ancient scrolls, unable to build upon them or create your own spells. It's not a science, so you cannot do actual research to extend your 'magical' horizons. You can't experiment, you can't alter the words or recipes of your enchantments. That fireball you just summoned up is nothing compared to what I can do."

"Oh, I know. That's why I chose you. However, your claims are incorrect. Magic is indeed a skill one can develop and build upon. I've created higher level spells and hexes. I use my fire to create matter rather than destroy as the ancients and nature intended. I am an entity all on my own, and I am very aware of what I am doing."

I leaned against the doorway. "Oh? Prove it."

"Fine, we're still waiting on Treasure Knight anyhow." Suddenly, she created a dagger from thin air. "Ever seen this kind of alchemy?"

"No. It's just a cheap trick, I presume. You probably teleported that from elsewhere."

The Enchantress huffed. She grabbed my wrist and slashed at my palm, drawing viscous, infected blood. It dribbled onto her hand but didn't burn or harm her. "What the...?" I rasped.

"See? The typical barrier spell creates a body shield that is molecularly permeable on a larger scale. Thus, microscopically miniscule viruses, such as the ones you harbor, would possess the capability to infect me under the influence of such a shield. However, I have adapted my barrier to have much smaller pores. Therefore, I am unaffected by your viral agents." She let go of my wrist, using a spell to clean up the blood. My cut healed quickly on its own.

I blinked underneath my doctor's mask. This sorceress was something else! I should've given her more credit. "Oh...heh. I suppose that is adequate proof." I admitted reluctantly.

"Precisely. I'm surprised you don't integrate magic into your science and alchemy. Honestly, I thought that's what you were already doing. The potions and explosives you manufacture are fabulous; beyond most men's comprehension, even."

"Hee, hee, you flatter me, Enchantress. But I've never really considered my work to be 'magical,' per se. That's just narrow-minded. From my perspective, magic and science are the same thing. Although the connotations are different, what actually separates the two is simple: magic is simply science we don't understand. It's an inaccurate way to explain phenomena."

The Enchantress put a hand to her chin, musing the thought over. "Maybe, maybe not. I have to disagree, however. No matter how you look at it, the two seem to be completely different subjects, besides their origins. But nevertheless, one thing is for sure: your undertakings and research at the Explodatorium are one-hundred percent magical; you are simply the kind of sorcerer who has a better grasp on the magical and alchemical fields. You use sciences every day to study natural occurrences and the physics of life. Then you use those sciences to enhance your magic. Trust me, Plague Knight, magic is definitely something one is capable of comprehending and developing."

"Hmm...well, no…ah, never mind. Your argument is valid. I can't think of a way to counter you yet. Mayhap after the meeting."

"Not a problem. And would it be an insult to you if the meal of the afternoon is roast chicken? I know you're fond of birds and all."

At that, I cackled sharply, holding my gut because I was laughing so hard. "Eehee hee hee! No, no, I only like crows!"

"Oh dear, what a relief. My chefs grow very cross one denies their meals."

"Then I'll make sure to note that it tastes horrible."

"Not when it overwhelms your palate, (to quote a wise man)! Also, you stubborn scarecrow, I'm going to grant you a shield that prevents your plagues from infecting others. So you can socialize, you know? You're quite the notorious recluse, cooped up in that laboratory of yours." She said, and waved a hand towards the dining room. "Now get inside and sit down. I can sense that Treasure Knight has just arrived."

"As you wish. And thank you, friend."

"Not a problem."

~~~

"Welcome one, welcome all, my dear comrades in shining armor!" Boomed the Enchantress, who floated high in the air above us. A malicious aura of dark energy swirled around her. Despite her genial demeanor, she seemed condescending. But that might've been a side effect of our previous debate.

Beside me sat Mole Knight and Propeller Knight. They were actually rather interesting fellows (once they got past how frightening I allegedly looked). The former was quite the jokester and spurred up heated conversations, while the latter was very laid back and easygoing, although apparently enjoyed major excitements every now and then. The two were talking of their travels both underground and high above before I sat between them. I listened in on their narrations for a bit until I joined in with my own stories. We had a few laughs, but throughout it all I could feel someone's eyes on me. They cut into me like trenchant blades.

"Before we eat our lunch or brunch or midday-whatever, I would like to discuss a few things with you all..." She went on to convey why she started the Order, the Shovel Knight we were to stop, her gratitude for joining her crew and the gifts she's given us in return. "In addition to the dominions I've granted you from this region I've subdued with my expansive power, I've also given you a special gift tailored to your needs. You don't have to thank me, I am aware of my prominent philanthropic side." That left the crowd in an uproar. The men beside me could barely contain themselves at the spurious statement. "I've taught Black Knight superior shovel-blade techniques to rival those of Shovel Knight himself, given King Knight all the gold he could possibly desire..." With each acknowledgement she made, each knight nodded in approval or smiled. "I've made Plague Knight an extrovert," a laugh from her audience. I myself cackled as Propeller Knight playfully elbowed my side. The Enchantress elaborated on the viral nullifier and continued. "I've brought Specter Knight back from the dead..."

My heart stopped.

What? There's no way she had the ability to that.

I looked over to the knight to whom she was referring. His spindly arms were crossed over his chest, and a red hood darkened his visored face. In response to his benefactor's acknowledgement he stared off into space. An icy-gray light radiated from his dead eyes.

Indeed, the man under that cloak looked very undead, or at least rather ghostly. It didn't even seem like there was a person in that robe, actually. Just darkness.

"How in Odin's name did ya do that?!" Boomed a loud, earthshaking voice. I swiveled my head in his direction. It came from the burly Polar Knight.

"Bring a dead man back to life, you mean?" The Enchantress asked. I suppose everyone else was just as clueless as I.

"Aye!" Barked King Knight. "Such an act is a perversion of the natural order!"

The horned witch smirked, then laughed. It reverberated throughout the dining room, unsettling most of the group and sending chills down their spines. "AHAHA...ah...hmph." She floated down to the head chair of the table, laying down along the armrests. "Oh my, you're quite funny, usurper. Has it not occurred to you already that I am not natural? That the Tower of Fate itself is a blemish on this placid land? Haha...the 'natural order.' My existence has already unbalanced it..." She mumbled proudly. Everyone in the room gasped, their eyes growing wide. I could see little Tinker Knight tremble in his armor, and Black Knight, distraught, look the other way pensively.

I thought of her words and nodded. It was then that I realized how deep we all were down the rabbit hole. Most of us had signed up for the job because of the deals she struck us, not realizing how dangerous and terrifying our boss actually was. A traitor or failure among us could affect the whole Order.

But of course, I wasn't scared. I was immortal.

King Knight coughed. "Oh...I see. My apologies..."

The sorceress cackled once more, then with a flick of her wrist lifted the covers off their dishes. Steam wafted from the succulent, mouthwatering chicken and steamed vegetables. Besides me, Mole Knight twitched and clacked his claws against the table, almost exploding in anticipation. I laughed.

"What? I haven't eaten yet!" He hissed back to me, removing his helmet. He was very hairy, actually, and I can tell by the way his nose curls up and his ears were rounded that he was some kind of a cross between a human and a mole. His mustache was even fashioned into a star.

"Prepare yourselves for the most breathtaking brunch of your lives!" The Enchantress declared, taking a bottle of wine from the center of the table and pouring it into each of our glasses with her powers of levitation. As she did so, the other famished knights removed their own helmets from their heads. Propeller Knight sported a head of long, braided hair, and King Knight had the gruffest beard you ever did see. I glanced at each and every one of my comrades' unique faces. But Specter Knight, who seemed to turn his head away once I glanced at him, kept on his visor. Odd. I thought as I idly removed my mask and hood. It seemed my pals wanted to inquire on the horrible marring and burns of my domepiece, but they kept quiet.

Once she finished, she manually lifted her own glass. "And here's a toast to our wonderful new gang, the Order of No Quarter! Let the world tremble and cower under our dominion as we extend our reach and crush our foes with an iron fist. As the ancients said on war, let us spare the conquered and vanquish the proud!"

The knights cheered and rose their glasses, some of them having a good laugh at that. Especially Treasure Knight, who replied with what everyone else was thinking. "Aye, Enchantress, but I won't be sparin' anyone for nothin'!"

"Fantastic! And that's why I chose you!"

The men clapped at that, and eagerly began to dig into their meals. I grabbed my fork and knife to slice up the meat, while Mole Knight hilariously speared the legs with his claws and stuffed them into his mouth.

"Ohoho, you are quite the gentleman, eh?" Propeller Knight joked in his charming accent, politely eating his food with silverware.

"As much of a gentleman as you are, skirt chaser." The excavator rebuked with a mouthful of chicken, much to the chagrin of the pilot. Thus spurred a battle of slanders, only to be followed by whimsical dialogues with the rest of the Order.

They, along with the other men, kept up such lively banter, intoxicated by wine and any other alcoholic beverages they requested brought to the table (Goodness, how much beer could Polar Knight imbibe!?). I laughed along quietly, but I couldn't help but feel those same, cold eyes bore into me. And I knew from where they came. 

Why was Specter Knight so concerned with me?

~~~

As our rambunctious brunch came to a close and the Enchantress's servants began to collect the dishes, the woman herself sent everyone home. "Farewell, my dear allies, and have a marvelous day! Good fortune to you in all of your endeavors!" She said, waving them off.

As the ecstatic Order left to their respective lands, I stayed back. I needed to talk to the Enchantress about her ability.

I walked back into the dining room and looked up. She sat against a windowsill and gazed out into the eternal night, which flared with sparks of green lightning every so often.

I clacked my cane against the floor to catch her attention. "Enchantress!" I called to her.

"Huh...oh hello, Plague Knight. Back so soon?" She asked turning toward me. "Have you formulated that witty comeback you promised?"

"Unfortunately not, your most magically inclined." I said jokingly. "I have returned only with an inquiry."

"Oh. You wish to learn how I rose Specter Knight from the grave, I presume?"

I nodded. "Why yes I do, mind-reading one."

"Hmm...well, I start from the beginning. I joined his spirit in the underworld for a while. It was in a separate plane of the Lich Yard, and this required the highest level transportation spell I had. With the ruthless, ambitious, and strong-willed nature of his past life, he had already established his dominion over both lands, dead and undead as a spirit and a specter. His underlings knighted him as their ruler, and he ruled with a cold, iron fist. By using my magic to connect his spirit with his past body's remains (I found some of his bones intact in a grave) I was able to create a new vessel for him. (See, that was scientific. Using his old cells to fabricate a model for his previous form. Have faith in me, friend.)

Anyways, though his new body may seem dark and frail, leading to discrepancies between his past and new life, that is not entirely the case. Or at the least it was not my doing. He shrouds himself in the shadows he grew accustomed to, and fasts because he is unable to eat. Hmph. either his organs have yet to function properly or he has forgotten how to care for mortal flesh. It's been months, though, so I cannot fathom why. I'll have to set him straight." She said, chuckling.

I stared bewildered at the powerful witch, unbelieving of her story. How in the world could any being travel to the land of the beyond and back, still living? This woman...she was a force to be reckoned with. In fact, I was beginning to believe she was just that: a force, an entity. No mortal being could possibly contain that much potential.

I considering the consequences of such a thought. It was great and all, to be evil. Yet in all honesty, I only considered it a fun hobby. But the Enchantress…she had something else in store for this world, there was no doubt about that.

Shaking my head of such musings, I returned to the previous topic. "So what you're saying is, you had to...erm...you could only...you had to have those two materials first? His energy in the form of his spirit, and his structure in the form of his cells? Thus you were able to...reconstruct him, so to speak?"

The sorceress nodded, toying with the long sleeves of her robe. "Precisely."

"Then I suppose I was looking at it all wrong! All this time, I was trying to impart energy into a dead structure and restore it thus! Oh, goodness!" I slapped my palm against my forehead, beating my head with my cane. "Of course I never saw that in my grief! All of my damned grief...it did nothing but lead me astray! Why in the world did I believe I could create energy, especially the amount needed to jumpstart a dead body? That would be impossible, breaking one of the most important laws of physics! But you, Enchantress, you are wise. Recycling a spirit's energy to galvanize a corpse...a very feasible transfer of energy. Kudos to you." I gave her a little bow.

"Why thank you. But I'm more interested in your story, there. How long have you been pursuing the art of death-reversal?"

"Years. Many, many years."

"Truly. And what, might I ask, caused said 'grief,' dear knight?"

"I would rather not say."

"Did you slay someone? Slay someone you were fond of?"

I huffed. Was I that predictable? She hardly knew me. "Yes but that does not matter, I suppose. Not until I can find a way to harvest a soul."

"Harvest a soul...ask Specter Knight for one. He's some kind of reaper, I believe. Or...he looks it. Regardless, I'm sure he'd help you out."

"Heh. I've got a strong feeling he wants nothing to do with me. And speaking of him, why did the ghost want to be brought back to life in the first place if he was so successful in death?"

The Enchantress shrugged. "That I do not know. Why don't you shoot that question to the knight himself? And ask him to reap a soul for you. Aha! Then you'd be killing two crows with one stone- erm, I mean birds."

I chuckled at her attempt to tease me. "Hee, hee, hee...you're quite the card, lady." Then I turned around and began walking out of the dining room. "But anyways, my gratitude goes to you, Enchantress, for all of your help!"

"And thank you, Plague Knight, for having enough of a brain to spring such entertaining conversation!"

Ha. Entertaining. That's a good word for it. I laughed and said my farewells, hopping out of the room. The Enchantress resumed her sky-gazing through the window while her minions finished cleaning the brunch-party mess. She had a glint in her eye, and a grin full of ivory fangs.


	6. Chapter 6

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 6: Close Encounters with the…Same Kind?

**A/N: Gosh guys, those reviews are really brightening up my day! Thanks for showing me some love! Enjoy this latest installment!**

In the fading daylight, the Lich Yard was shady and intimidating. Monstrous, lightning-charred trees stood tall as towers, creaking against the wind and producing shadows of twisted branches. Grave markers and stones littered the earth in outrageous disarray. Brick pavement parted for weeds and torqued tree sprouts, which extended their reach to the sky like zombies' hands (in the dark, it wasn't hard to confuse them as such, either). Ghost flitted in and out between the planes of the living, reaching out to me with glitchy plasma and energy. But they did not faze me. I swatted them away with my cane whenever they grew too close. (Thank goodness it was still too early for skeletons to rise and wander about. They were even more petulant!)

I traveled the whole region from the Tower of Fate to get to this heinous graveyard, only to be disheartened upon arrival. This domain was much too vast for me to locate one single Specter. Thus, I figured I'd just visit the grave of my beloved. I grabbed some forest flowers on the journey here for that purpose anyhow. (Fortunately, my human plagues couldn't kill plants).

I wandered leisurely along a worn brick path. Frogs slept in the weeds and crows perched on stones. Some crows flew on my head and shoulders as always, and I was soon accumulating a collection of them. I stretched out my arm as an invitation, and one hopped onto it. I cawed to it in their euphonious language and caressed its glistening feathers. But once I finally arrived at my lofty, black obelisk, it was all business. The crows flew away from the spire uttering squawks of fear. (I never really knew why they did that. I assumed it was as a result of its unnatural height or sheen, yet some of the gravestones they used as perches looked quite quirky as well.)

Taking a few steps toward the marker, I touched its surface again. I passed my sickly green fingers along the Latin etchings I made. "Requiescat in pace, meus carissimus." Rest in peace, my dearest.

Sappy, I know. I hardly knew the man except for his eyes, his rare smile. He looked like an angel, but not the kind to which you prayed. The kind whose image you vainly worshipped for its enchanting beauty. A mortal whose image had engraved itself into the codes of your memory for reasons neither man nor immortal could decipher. I dropped the flowers onto the floor, watching them sink into the ground. The obsession was strong, against all odds and reason. It gripped me like the dead, icy grasp of hands in rigor mortis, and-..wait.

Why did the flowers sink into the ground?

I quickly bent over to pick them up, shaking the sand off of them. Placing an unwitting little foot in the hole, it was sucked in as well, causing me to trip. My leg plunged into the sinkhole to the knee. What the hell was going on?!

I tossed the flowers to the side, kneeling down to tug my leg out of the crevice. A growl rose in my throat and my feathers stood on end. Had someone tried to grave rob or unearth the coffin? Well, they could have tried, but I was sure they wouldn't have any luck. There was no way a petty grave robber could have opened my intricate coffin. It was fabricated from the toughest, most impenetrable steel alloy I could find, strengthened with the help of Tinker Knight's locks and craftsmanship. (The only other knight I knew in person before the meeting. I had needed a professional to help me give the assassin a proper burial.)

The main question remaining, then, was...how long? "Had this hole been here for a while? It looks it." I asked to the open air, which obviously didn't respond. "I was just here yesterday and never noticed it. Hmph...the sanctity of my burial. It's ruined."

"Heh, heh, heh...I know." A deep yet scratchy voice rasped, and seemed to echo throughout the empty graveyard. "Such a pity. Such a shame. Such things it all is. I've run out of words." The voice said in a rather cocky manner.

I swung my head around to locate the source of the voice, almost breaking my neck. No one or ghost beside me, behind me-

"The problem with the arrogant is that their world finds focus within their own level. Their concern lies neither below, nor above..." It continued, emphasizing that last note in a singsong tone. "Only among. Only among those they can influence." Catching the hint, I looked up. The curious Specter Knight was sitting crisscrossed atop the spire, staring down and straight at me, skulls and red robes billowing in the wind. He tapped a raven-black, skeletal finger to his chin. In the faint light of day I could see he was smiling.

I stood there petrified by the icy-gray light of his piercing eyes, which permeated through his visor. He continued. "You made a lovely grave for me, you know." He passed a hand along the grave marker's sleek face. "Very lovely. I didn't even realize it was mine. Every time I passed by this obelisk in spirit, I believed it to be the lavish fancy of a wealthy man. But sure enough, the Enchantress discovered my bones within it. I thank you for interring me here. So convenient." He rasped in that void-like voice of his.

I swallowed. "Erm...uh...you're welcome. You're very welcome." I mumbled, numb. Then I realized what he had-

Wait.

Specter Knight is...

"You're very fickle, Plague Knight. Very unpredictable. First you kill me, then you bury me as if I was a member of your own family. Why is that, I wonder?"

"Family? You are now, in the Order."

"I was not before. I was simply an assassin, hired by whomever wanted someone gone without a trace. I wanted to kill you. Seems on that note you should've left me to the crows."

"To be fair, I never wanted to kill you. It wasn't an equal fight; the odds were all stacked against you! But I had no idea how to chase off a guy who thought he could kill me and insistently tried to. So I was forced to-"

"Oh, no, no," He interrupted, flying off the spire towards me. He hovered over the ground. "To be fair...rest assured I wanted to kill you. But soon I realized I couldn't kill you. So I tried to kill myself."

"W-w-what?" I squawked. "Why?!"

He shrugged, leaning against the black obelisk. "I had nothing going for me. Nothing at all. I was banished from my father's farm when he found out I enjoy...exploring the wonders of the same kind, so to speak. And that didn't matter. I wasn't willing to become his farmhand for the rest of my life either. Grain and dirt. What a dull, tiring career. Instead, I became an assassin. So either I could kill to satisfy my ceaseless rage or be killed and get my life over with."

"What? That sounds completely absurd! Why didn't you just commit suicide if that was the case?" I shuddered at the thought, but then again he was already dead. "Then I wouldn't have had to…you know."

He laughed under his spacious hood. "It's difficult, and rather senseless. In comparison, killing others is so very enjoyable. I killed a general, you know. All with the help of my two trusty yard sickles." He chuckled again, but it was undulating, drawn-out, and reverberated throughout the cemetery. Ghosts phased into the other world and even the farthest crows flew off with strangled shrieks. "Hmph. Ha, ha…It's so marvelous. To hold a man's weakly beating heart in your hands. To let their blood slide through your fingers and taste it. To eviscerate their organs straight from their abdomen and asphyxiate them with their colon. Heh. Heheh. Heheheheheheh..." He laughed, increasing in volume consecutively. "AHAHAHAHAHA...ha..."

Goodness.

I couldn't believe it. This was not the person I believed Specter Knight to be. That man was beautiful, naive, tragic and unfortunately desperate. This one was...well...

I was starting to believe this being was insane.

Whether or not I was fine with that was a mystery. But then again, who was I to complain? I was lacking some peace of mind as well.

I coughed. "Hrmph. Specific, indeed. You...seem to have a lot of experience in the matter." I replied.

"I do, I do. Could you tell? Haha." He pushed himself off the black pillar. "Things grew less vibrant upon my separation from this plane. There's nothing gory about killing ghosts, unfortunately. Obliterating plasma alone; it's all so tedious. Such a sad shame." He said nostalgically.

"Oh. Is that why you wished to be revived from the grave?"

The other knight nodded. "'Tis indeed. Although I'd rather not rely on the assistance of another, especially of such a heinous witch, my desires exceeded my pride."

I laughed: an awkward, immediate reaction. "Hee, hee. Beggar."

"What? That's an ignorant accusation! I'm just resourceful."

"Is that how you became autocrat of this macabre land? By begging your way to the top?" I teased. What else was I to say? I was shell-shocked; I needed to lighten the mood.

"No! I was more strong-willed, and did not regret being dead. While every ghost here desperately held onto the hope of life and rebirth, I accepted my fate graciously. I slew those shades and creatures of decay and bone who decreed themselves kings. They were all as weak as their denizens. Obtaining their titles, I then reigned over these dead lands with raw power and a cold, bleeding sickle. Even the living knelt before me in fear, or scurried off at my sight. Why do you think there's neither crow nor frog beneath the feet of this obelisk now?"

I blinked under my mask. Oh. That made sense. "Well, I-"

"Stop skirting around my question!" He hissed suddenly. "This banter has gone on long enough."

"What? What question? There was a question?"

"Yes, fool."

"Oh...ask it again, I suppose I forgot." I lied, but only to mess with him. He was too serious; I couldn't help it.

He sighed, then stepped off the pillar and stood before me. Even when he wasn't hovering, he stood a good few inches taller and stared me down with arms crossed. A strong wind tried to push us down, and I had to regain my footing a few times, but Specter Knight did not even budge. The breeze played a dirge through the holes in his skulls and the tears in his cloak.

My eyes darted to and fro in confusion, wondering when he was going to start talking. What gives? Why was he glaring at me so? It was as if he was trying to interrogate me with those lifeless, icy-gray eyes.

Suddenly his hand shot out and seized my mask. He gently lifted it off my face then slammed it to the ground (I was surprised it was still in one piece). His slender fingers cupped my chin and gently pulled my face towards his. In a low, growling tone, he breathed into my ear. "Why did you properly bury me?"

This position was much too intimate and awkward. Feeling heat rise to my cheeks, I swatted his hand away and replied. "I'd rather not tell you."

Under his shield of darkness I could make out a frown forming on his face. "Why?"

"Because it's...erm...probably not relevant...to anything you're thinking." I mumbled bashfully, scratching the back of my neck.

His frown morphed into the evilest of smirks. "Oh? I think it's relevant to EVERYTHING I'm thinking."

"Then stop thinking. Drop the subject."

"No, I don't believe I shall." He said, seizing my shoulders and pushing me up against my grave marker. I uttered a low grunt. His arms were situated on either side of me to prevent my escape.

"So tell me," He began in a hushed tone, almost whispering into my ear. He paused for a bit to run his fingers down the Latin inscription, humming casually. As if he wasn't just pinning me up against the wall. As if he hadn't just slid his leg in between my thighs ever so subtly. I held my breath so as not to make any unsavory sounds. "What do these pretty words mean? I know the first three. What about these two?" The undead knight pointed to the words 'meus carissimus.'

I sharply inhaled a breath. Goodness. Why did he have to rub up against THAT with his knee?! I was already embarrassed enough, now this?! "Ah...erm...it's not...please stop, I can't concentrate."

"Stop what? I have no idea what you're on about. Please, keep talking." He said in that same sultry tone.

Although Specter Knight slowed his pace, I still gasped slightly. The stimulation was scarce, and each time it hit me was a rush of blood south. "Damn. It...doesn't mean anything." I grunted, trying my best to maintain a neutral demeanor.

"Yes it does. Just tell me. How bad can it be?"

"...I have a feeling...you know...a-anyways."

"What do you mean? What would I know? I was a poor man in my living life. Destitute. Uncultured."

The more he dragged things out, the more it got to me. "F-fine! It means...m-..my dearest." I mumbled in the lowest volume I could muster. Too bad, though. He was close enough to hear.

"Oh? Ohoho...does it now? And if I recall correctly, can't 'carus' be translated as 'beloved' as well?"

"Well, in some texts...I suppose- WAIT! You dastardly storyteller! I knew you were setting me up."

"What else was I to do, you stubborn little creature? I had to scare the truth out of you somehow." He removed his leg from in between my thighs. The lack of friction-produced warmth left me feeling needy. But that was irrelevant.

"Truth? What?" I squawked. "You knew?!"

"I figured it was so. That you had fallen for me so long ago."

"No, I...that's not the case, I-I can assure you!-"

"Why else would you try not to kill me when I assaulted you? Why else would you give me a not only proper but also elaborate and meticulously designed burial, accompanied with an elegant raven spire, with an ornate and well secured coffin, with bouquets of bountiful wildflowers? Why, when you are nothing but an uncaring, heartless, introverted villain? Why, when you enjoy devastating and decimating myriads of hapless humans with your plagues, simply to experiment with your biological weapons and leaving them all to rot afterwards? Why? Why, why, why?

...Why else, but that you're in love with me?"

I shook my head vigorously. "No, no, no! That's not it at all! Would you just STOP!" My voice faltered. A few stray tears slid down my cheeks. "First you try to embarrass me, now you seek to degrade me for who I am and what I like-...n-no, don't like..." I cut myself off there. Too late for denial.

I focused my gaze to the floor to avoid his cold, interrogative glare. I heard metal brush against metal, and felt a skeletal hand delicately rub a tear off my cheek. It then lifted my chin ever so slightly and all I could see was sympathy in those profound, beautiful sky-blue eyes that I fell in love with years ago. Specter Knight had lifted his visor and hood and dissipated the shadowy aura which enveloped him. His features were gaunt and skin pale. He was still a peculiar, psychopathic killer. But I fell in love with him all over again.

"I'm not trying to degrade you." He soothed. "Did I not inform you earlier of my orientation?"

"...I...I'm not sure. D-did you?"

"I do enjoy exploring the wonders of my own kind."

"Oh. Yes, you did say that, didn't you? I guess I forgot to ask what you meant...what are yOU DOING?!" I shrieked when a cold, stray hand traveled too far up my robe.

He wore a smirk befit of the devil himself. "Exploring what makes you wonderful."

"B-but...you're too cold!"

"Warm me up~." He hummed, licking my ear.

"Oh my..." I breathed. "You w-want me as well? Even after all that garbage you said about me?"

"Perhaps. Your playful attitude is rather attractive. And I do love how you taste. Sickly sweet, just like death."

The redness spreading onto my face like an infection grew brighter at the quirky compliment. "But...pestilence is disgusting, distasteful. I love it, though surely you cannot as well?"

"It's growing on me."

"Hee, hee..." I giggled bashfully at the pun.

Specter Knight smiled. "And besides, doesn't death follow pestilence?"

I nodded.

"So as such, I'll follow you."


	7. Chapter 7

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 7- A Little Bird Once Told Me…

**A/N- Hey guys, I'm back after finally realizing how long it's been since my last update (so sorry about that)! I know you guys want the sexy times, so I apologize for being a huge cockblock with this chapter. They're PROBABLY coming soon. I'm still working out how it would go since I've never written a sex scene for a non-RP story. So if I do write it and it comes out under par, than I'm really sorry.**

**Also, I'm like beating myself up over here because I keep introducing headcanons you guys may or may not have or can't visualize. So I at least drew a picture of my headcanon Plague Knight without his robes, and annotated it with parts of the headcanon I've referenced in this/previous chapters. If you'd like to see it, it can be found at this link** art/Plague-Knight-headcanon-484846795 **and if that doesn't work you can just search up my profile "Derpknight47" on deviantart and find it in my (near empty) gallery.**

**Anyways, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Those foolish words reiterated behind my skull again and again.

"Oh. Um, I-...I don't think I'm ready for that."

I slammed my head against the old, metal desk (well dented from my having done so several times beforehand). It produced a dull clamor which shook the walls of my study. I couldn't believe myself. Not ready? Not READY?!

_I've been ready for over five years!_, I thought, _I couldn't have been any more prepared for that moment!_

I sighed hoarsely, running tiny fingers through burned, crow-black and crow-feathered hair. So...what in the world could have compelled me to utter such nonsense? 'I don't think I'm ready...' Why would I even-

...Was I afraid?

Afraid of what? Commitment? Binding myself to another man? Being with not only another man, but also a man who possessed an entirely different personality than of the one I had obsessed and slaved over for half a decade? "Hmph..."

"...Ehee, hee, hee." I snickered. My taloned fingers rapped restlessly against the cold metal. Of course. Of course that was it. The only thoughts that passed my mind all these years were to revive the man I had killed. I scarcely pondered what I would do upon his revival.

Well...I couldn't claim that either. I assumed that once I gave him life, he would abandon me and my goal would be reached. Perhaps he would thank me, perhaps we could create a bond of some sort; yet, despite my enthusiasm and rebuttal of Robert's claim, those were both highly unlikely to occur. Especially in joint. Lightning would gratefully strike the same spot twice than would my assassin behave as such.

Then, years later, my trip to the Lich Yard taught me to consider statistics with a grain of salt. Specter Knight had not only done BOTH of those things, but he had also complimented me, offered to become intimate. It was all too much for me, and perhaps that was why I backed down.

I stood up from my desk and began to pace the room. My electric crow cocked her head and cawed from her perch. The undead knight's soft chuckle and words of response now rung in my head. "Hmmm. Curious. Well, upon the completion of your...preparations, return here. I'll be waiting for you, my dear. Eheheheheh..." He said, backing off of me with a deep, ominous laugh and dissipating into the empty evening air in a flurry of darkness. (Just as unnervingly as I expected him to behave.)

I put a claw to my chin and commenced pondering.

Now, there were two modes of action from there on out. I could rush into things and accept his offer tomorrow, even this afternoon as the day was still young and fresh. Throw my cares to the wind; whatever happens, happens!

On the other hand, I could think things through, get to know him better, become his friend and eventually his lover if we were truly compatible.

A smirk played on my lips at the plan. A chuckle escaped my throat as I mumbled to myself, "When have you _ever_ been the type to take things slow?"

Because, of course, I never was. When faced with a difficult task, I would always tackle it without regard to precautions or prerequisites. If I needed to test out a new biological weapon, then I'd just walk over to the nearest village and surprise them. (Free subjects! Even if that wasn't...you know...humane. Well, I'm not human anyhow. But those angry mobs at my doorstep can be quite a bother.) If the Explodatorium required enhanced guarding, I'd just create a new species of enemies for the purpose! (Might be why those faulty lab rats self-destruct haphazardly). If I needed to bring a man back to life, then _by George_ I was going to formulate a revival potion! (Of course, I did spend several years on the project and still it never got finished.)

...Oh.

Jumping into things...doesn't usually work out. I guess I had that all wrong as well.

So approach one was far out of the question! Now...how could I approach approach two? Should I simply inform Specter Knight that I wished to build a relationship from the ground up, rather than from up and possibly crash to the ground? Or should I just avoid him for a while until things...settle down between us and the reaper becomes less expectant? Or...no, perhaps-

"Sir Plague Knight, mi' lord, do you intend on holing yourself up in this stuffy study all day?"

"Keh, what?" I twitched from where I was standing, my feathers standing on end in annoyance. The voice plunged me out of my thoughts and drew my ears in its direction. "Oh, it's just Robert. What can I do for you, colleague?"

The wizard scoffed. "JUST Robert? How rude. What were you expecting, a parade in your honor?"

"Hee, hee. You're much too sensitive, old man."

"Old? Old, yes, of course…coming from a being who's older than time itself."

"What?! I'm not that old! My trade may be, but I'm just shy of two centuries."

"Yes, and surprisingly so. I cannot believe you haven't croaked yet- I mean, there's someone here to see you!"

I permitted seconds to flow by. Robert seemed to tremble. "...You really do underestimate me, don't you, Robert?"

"...There's...someone here to see you!"

"MARVELOUS, and to whom may I bestow said honor?" I replied cheekily, subtly reminding my underling not to SASS me.

"Why, an ally of the Order, so it seems! Although witty, I cannot recall his name. Though I do remember him having a silly hat..." The old man, unfazed, scratched his bearded chin.

"Well don't just stand there like a statue, bring me to him!" I squawked.

"Right away, your high and mighty, follow me."

And so I did, and so I was led downstairs to the Explodatorium's dingy lobby. It was unkempt, with peeling paint due to the factory's humidity and stains due to bloody explosions and elixir spills. Cobwebs and mouse-dens decorated the corners and cracks the walls. It was all so beautiful, so decrepit, my meticulous design.

My guest, unable to place value in such terrible, unsanitary conditions, stood skittishly rather than sat comfortably in one of the lobby's available chairs. How offensive. Waving Robert off with a sweep of my hand, I hopped silently over to the vertically gifted knight (who was facing away from me so I could catch him off guard). To voice my annoyance with having to look up at people all morning, I teased. "Hee, hee, doesn't that heavy helmet get hot and stuffy after a while?"

He glanced over his shoulder through the cross-shaped visor. "Oh, au contraire, does not this fuming laboratory get 'hot and stuffy' after a while?"

"...Touché." I grumbled as he turned to face me. Faster than I could comprehend, I was seized in a bear hug that should've broken ribs.

"OHOHO, my petite little friend, how do you fare? You look, oh...how you say...so _ADORABLE_ without your scary Halloween mask!"

"ACK..damnit Pr-propeller Knight, I n-need to BREATHE like everyone else!"

Thus, I was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. The extravagant pilot stared down at me. "Ah, my apologies, might I help you up?"

"'M fine." I grunted, arching my back and pushing myself up in one fluid motion. I wiped the dust off my robe.

"So sorry, er...I just couldn't help noticing how you have such a smooth, pretty face, disregarding your scars! And such a stylish cut of hair! What a surprise you radiate health as the sun radiates flame, and are not as sickly as your trade might imply."

I laughed as he fawned over me. "Hee, hee, you treat me like a suitor does a woman! And that's a foolish assumption. I _afflict_ diseases; if I were to be afflicted by them I'd be long dead. I possess an immune system of diamond."

"Oh, yes, so true, I see! But lighten up, Plague Knight, I was only complimenting you! Hon, hon, hon, a woman? You sprout such silly conjectures with that clever little head of yours. Although...ermm...you do convey 'femme,' now that I think about it..." Oh gods, this guy. I didn't need another Specter Knight to consider. What was his deal?

"...Are you into girly men, Propeller Knight?" Maybe he'd lay off me if I tormented him.

"What- EH, what is this _nonsense_?! No, no, do not take me for such a _dog_ of a man! I am a gentleman who seeks the companionship of fine, classy women-"

"Short, girly men who will look the part on the streets but pleasure you in ways only a man knows how in the sheets?"

"W-why does your mind wander so?! When EVER did I say a word to suggest such a VILE-"

"Have you thought of courting me on that fetish? Or was I simply a thought...perhaps your wandering eyes seek a more petite, prettier young fellow?"

I loved the stunned, agonized look on his seething face. It was just perfect, just classic! I yearned so dearly to capture the moment.

"Hmm...whom might you have chosen as your victim of such lecherous affection? Mayhap...the youthful and charmingly cute Tinker Knight, with fair ginger skin and an intelligent head on his shoulders?"

The pilot paled for a moment, his eyes growing wide and muscles stiff. "I...erm...ah...n-NO, such a thought would NEVER cross my mind! No, no, you have confused my intentions! I am a lover of good women, that is all!" He assured shakily.

"Hmmm...sure! I'm convinced! Hee, hee, so what brings you here, fellow knight?"

"...Do you not take me seriously?"

"What? Why would I? You told me yourself to lighten up!"

The other man sighed. "Yes, yes, of course I did. Of course…but I am merely here to say hello! I set out at dawn's return to give a brief welcome to all of my new friends of the Order! Haha, it has been a merry day, and merry were our hearty comrades upon my visitations!"

"Well, merry am I as well!" I offered my hand. The vivacious man shook it enthusiastically in return, giddy as if I had not just soured his mood. What a carefree man. I had to give him credit for that. "It has been a pleasure to meet you, Propeller Knight, and to have such lovely conversation the day prior." I said with a warm smile that I hadn't shown in ages.

"Ah, the pleasure is all mine, friend! How do you fare?"

"Well...although I am pensive of late...bah, that's none of your concern."

"Oh? Perhaps I might be of some assistance? I am your comrade, after all."

"Hmm...are you quite sure you wish to be bothered with such things? It's all rather silly, actually."

"Oh? Unless it is relevant to our...previous discussion...I do not see how it could be so. Care to explain?"

"Erm...sure. You are a romantic after all, so who better to ask-"

"WHAT, did I hear that correctly?! Ohoho, you, Plague Knight, are in LOVE, eh?"

I didn't particularly liked how he emphasized the word. But, I could not say his insinuation was incorrect. "Hee, hee…you _assumed_ it correctly, at least."

"Then, sit, sit, tell me who the lady is! A local villager perhaps? A well met traveler?" He sat me down on an ancient, rusted lobby chair, then sat on another adjacent to me. Dust puffed up from the aged cushions, yet he paid no heed to that. Seems in his excitement he forgot about the disgusting conditions of my furnishings.

...And how ironic were his assumptions?

"Erm...the one I've fallen for...is not...really a...lady, i-if you know what I mean." I didn't really know how to break this to him without offending the poor man any further.

"...Oh?" He stared me down, pursing his lips as he mused over the notion. Suddenly, enlightenment washed over his face. "Ah, I see! But do not fear, my friend, there's nothing wrong with a taste for fauna femmes!"

...What?

"Mares, ewes, does, what does it matter, as long as they are pretty and kind? She doesn't have to be a 'lady' to be a lady!"

"Um...Propeller Knight..."

"I too have taken a sip from that cup of tea! I once met an elegant mare whose beauty put me in a trance! And she was quite the cute one as well! (If only from behind…) Flattery left her blushing, and jests made her giggle. Ah, a lovely woman indeed, but alas, her singular appetite for hay and sugar cubes got in the way of our lavish dinners, and her hooved legs were…quite the awkward sight to behold, once you got past her dress..."

"...Hee, hee, that's a rather humorous (*cough*gross*cough*) story, Propeller Knight. However, that's not what I meant. I do not fancy-"

"Oh, then perhaps you were referring to something...not mammalian?"

"No, wait, Propeller-"

"Aha, yes, why did I not think of that before! You are fond of the birds, yes? Might you have a majestic peacock mistress in your eye? With luxurious tastes and luscious tail feathers-"

"Propeller Knight, only _male_ peacocks have those kinds of tail feathers."

"Eh? No matter, then 'tis not a peacock. Oho...no, it must be a bird of death, hence your trade! Perhaps a crow lady...are there crow ladies? Hmm...of course there are, anything can exist in this realm! So, how about it, Plague Knight? Has a certain miss murder stilled your beating heart?"

"Ooo, lovely phrasing, my friend. And no, none of your conjectures are correct. Just calm down and let me talk."

"Alright, then spit it out! For whom have you fallen?!"

I took a deep breath. Alright, I had to tell him. "A...um..." I looked him warily in his eager eyes.

I couldn't tell him.

"Um...someone you know."

"Eh? Is this a game? How do you know whom I know? You just met me yesterday!"

"And you just met them...erm...yesterday as well."

"Eh?" He considered the notion for a second. Then his eyes grew wide as a bird's wingspan, gleaming in part with interest and part with fear. "Wait...do not tell me you love the Enchantress?"

"I do beg your pardon?! Oh no, definitely not. She's a monster."

"Agreed. Well, there's no one else."

"There were plenty of others. I'd say about six."

Shock remained in his gaze. "What? You don't mean...no...oh gods, just tell me, Plague Knight, I still have to greet King Knight and Specter Knight-"

"Yes..erm...y-yes, that's him." I admitted coyly.

"Eh?! King Knight?"

"No, no, no! The latter!"

"So...Specter Knight? That devil?"

"He's not a devil, he's a reaper."

"Hon, hon, close enough. So, you are in love with a dead _man_? Wow. That's...surprisingly homosexual of you."

"I'm more concerned your concern lies with homosexuality rather than necrophilia."

"Ah. Touché. Two wrongs make a right, they say!"

I huffed. How close-minded could this man get? It's as if he weren't a criminal! "Sure...can you help me?"

"With what? Getting rid of your disgusting obsession?"

"Hell no, I've waited five years for this! I need a method or sound advice on how to court him at a proper pace."

"My word! You are actually going through with this?! That man looks to be a maniac!"

"Well, so am I!"

"...Touché."

"That's getting old!"

"Right, right, my apologies, calm down. Now...erm...considering the nature of your infatuation, I cannot really help you. I only know how to court women. Erm...do you have a specific, eh...problem?"

"Yes. Yesterday, I once believed he was, heh, not who he is now."

"What do you mean?"

"Hee, hee...that will require some exposition."

The pilot shrugged. "Alright. I'm have all day."

What a contradictory response, when he was in such a hurry a few minutes before! "Hee, hee that's laughable...anyhow, a long time ago, Specter Knight was once an assassin, but a mortal man gifted with great beauty. Because he wished for my execution, I was unfortunately forced to kill him."

"Did he steal your heart at first sight, by any chance?"

I grew an unsightly shade of red. "I-...y-yes, he did." I stammered in slight embarrassment.

"Therefore...you barely got to know him before he...erm, how you say...kicked the bucket?"

I snickered. "You don't have to use idioms if you can't remember them well."

He smiled. "No, no, it was just on the tip of my tongue, you see! I am just as good at English as, ehm...how- ah!, as the next guy!"

"Hee, hee, hee, you're too funny."

"Hon, hon, I think you mean 'charming,' my friend! Why else would so many women flock to me like crows to your feet?"

"Um...I don't believe that analogy...properly portrays the true abundance of your female suitors. And anyhow, yes, I hardly knew him before he was slain." I sighed. "I was spurred on simply by his gorgeous face, by that warm smile..."

"Ah, then _that_ is your problem!"

"What?"

"It seems what is bothering you most is not 'how you should court him' but rather 'if you should court him.'"

"No, Propeller Knight, I already told you-"

"Yes, your brain is telling me one thing while your delicate heart betrays the truth! You are so stuck in the idea that he was a good man, your 'ideal' man. However, now that you are faced with the reality, you are slow to assume that he was never what you idealized him to be. I'm sure you gave him a number of qualities- sensitivity, naivety, gentleness, maybe- which might sprout from one looking so attractive, so pulchritudinous, as you say he had..."

"He still does."

"Eh? Does he?"

"Yes. He looks human under his cloak and darkness. You should ask him to show you."

"I'd expect him to much sooner show me the door than show me what he truly looks like." The man hypothesized with a hearty laugh.

"Hee, hee, perhaps if you ask nicely...oh sorry, I seem to have derailed you."

"Oh, no worries. If I've learned anything of controlling air flows, it's how to stop controlling them and simply ride with the wind. Anyhow, my point is: because you expected him to have a certain personality, you haven't accounted for the personality he actually has, and has most likely had even long before you met him. I'm sure he had always been a cold, heartless soul; one doesn't become that overnight, or over death, in this case. Therefore, your problem lies with one simple choice: you must either accept him for how he really is, or just forget about him. Once you overcome that first obstacle, the question of 'how' you court him will not be a problem. You will just act with the flow of things, as your opened heart desires."

I blinked. That seemed too bizarre, too impossible. One cannot jump into new terrains without showing concern for their predators. But even then, I had to respect the advice of one whose aid I _myself_ had requested. I sighed. "I fathom what your intent. However, I know not of how to answer that question."

"Of course you don't! Not now, at least. This is not a little thing you can decide in an instant. You must think it through, only then shall you be able to run with what your heart really desires."

"Oh. Just as I expected, then." I still had to do my own independent thinking. "Thank you, Propeller Knight. You've been a great help."

"Have I? Aha, I didn't think I could help a man who likes another, but I did! Amazing! What do you think that makes me, my friend? A love expert? A doctor of amour?"

"...Curious?"

"AND JUST WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?!"

"Hee, hee, oh, nothing. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ah, you bring that _NONSENSE _up again?! I am SO _insulted_! And after I gave you such good advice, too, you ungrateful..."

"You're rather defensive about the topic, aren't you, Propeller Knight?"

"I DO _NOT_ LIKE MEN!" He retorted fervently.

We continued on with such banter, until I shooed him off so he could arrive at the Lich Yard before sun down. (And before those annoying skeletons rose from their graves!) My mind laden with thoughts of Specter Knight, I could hardly focus on any projects or sleep a wink that night! So I made the resolve to meet with the ghastly shade on the morrow, and settle things once and for all. I would follow my heart, rather than my deliberative brain.

**A/N 2- Hehehehe, can you guys what my next shovel knight fanfiction will be on? Tinker Knight better watch himself…**


	8. Chapter 8

Death and Pestilence

Chapter 8- Pride and Perversity

**A/N: Aaaaand were back for another installment of the fresh hell that is this fanfiction! Congratulations to those of you who have made it this far, for we've finally reached the chapter that will force me to change the rating! Change the rating, Feathers, you mean from T to M? Wowzers! (Also congrats to those who noticed my rating was hilariously still T.) **

**And I know what you all are thinking. OH BOY, IS PLAGUE FINALLY GONNA TOUCH SPECTER'S BIG BLACK **_**CAWK**_**? No, no, son, sit down and eat your peas. Don't worry though, that's gonna happen soon, I'm just waiting for an appropriate time in the plot to do so. But I'm sure you'll- hehe- enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it (especially the end *cough* I MEAN-)**

**Anyhow, let me get to the real author's note. Just a notice on perspective and stylistic design, really. This chapter is written from Specter Knight's point of view, so you can gain insight on his *cough cough* motives. Also, I kept the narration first person because I thought it would fit the emotion behind this chapter. But enough of that, I hope you lovely readers enjoy!**

How strange.

How strange, indeed.

This was not running as I had planned. What's the count of days? I could guess. What's the count of hours? Definitely more than I could tally on my fingers. What's the count of minutes? Oh, thousands for sure. Then what was the count of seconds, oh let me see...

...Three hundred forty-three thousand, two hundred and eighty three.

...Oh? Make that eighty-four.

And with each passing moment rampant desires festered within me. Festered, almost as would a plague, a plague with which a certain creature had infected me. A sinful condition was this lust. I even had an epiphany as to why those mortal fools do not condone it.

Lust left one occupied. Lust left one idle. Lust left one yearning, yet when one was always alone there was nothing for which to yearn but thoughts, ideas. The intangible. And so lust inevitably left one _raging_, raging at the thoughts you could not make physical, raging at every burning minute spent without _him_! Thus in my path lay nothing but bones, blood, and fear. As per usual.

At one point, my grave reminded me of him, so I was forced to abandon it (however, I checked it frequently throughout those few days lest he appear without my notice). Yet everywhere I wandered to reap souls were crows, and those damned creatures drew out my repressed thoughts of Plague Knight.

Oh, sweet Hades and Hel. Plague Knight, that pretty little imp, who smelled of sweet death and tasted just the same. Never in my life (or death) have I felt more indebted to _and_ desirous of any one man. For what he's done for me. For what he can do for me. Yet there I was, sitting on the bodily remains of a successful hunt, pensive with thoughts of love. Thoughts I had never been bothered with since I was a mortal, naturally, and was drawn to delicious sin by a lascivious older farmhand. (Needless to say, we were both 'fired' upon the unmasking of our dirty secret. Except my firing was much, MUCH less literal. Though what need not be spoken stays as such.)

Bottom-line was, I had sunken deep into the throes of affection.

I shifted a tad, adjusting my rear to the curvature of my makeshift seat. The dead man's spine seemed to pop under my weight. The pool of blood below was agitated and splattered to and fro. But it would take more than silly sounds to distract me from my thoughts.

My plan was supposed to go smoothly, developed when I was informed that Plague Knight was also a member of the Order of No Quarter. I would intimidate him during orientation to inspire his curiosity into my nature, my existence. He would travel down to the Lich Yard, where I would seduce him and propose he became my lover. The image of him mask-less which I had seen before my death piqued my interest. Although I had nearly forgotten about him in death, that didn't mean I wanted nothing to do with him because of revenge or something asinine (completely the opposite, I would say). I was simply more invested in my primary passion, murder, and pursued it since the opportunities were abundant.

But now murder was dry and tasteless, as any job would be, while Plague Knight was new and sweet. Like a girl would a doll behind a shop window, I yearned for him, wanted him. Whether this was a passion or true love I knew not, but I definitely did not care either way. My chief priority would be to make him my own, and that was that.

Oh, but where was he now? Where was he as I waited patiently for all those three hundred thousand or so seconds beneath the merciless desert sun, beneath the tepid autumn moon? Why had he not come upon my beckoning the day after, or after the day after? Had I not enthralled him enough with my shady mystique? Had I not lavished him enough with sweet nothings and promises of pleasure?

I cradled my head in a bony hand. I sighed, heavy as the smog of a dead man's decay. It's been so long- too long- since I've practiced the art of love. Perhaps I misunderstood his intentions? No, no, not even a monkey would be blind to how he wanted me so. Perhaps I did not seduce him correctly? Well, I certainly did excite him. His heart was racing, a game hunter's horse couldn't catch up. Ah, it must feel wonderful to be so vivacious-.

"KE-KAW!"

"Quiet, bird, thoughts are flowing for once."

"CAAAWWW! Caw caw!"

I glanced at the crow near my feet. Or...crows, rather. Seems it attracted friends with its excited squawks.

"Caw, ka-KAW, caw!"

I rolled my eyes. "Fools. This isn't even your prey!"

"Craw, caw, keh, caw!"

My scythe appeared out of thin air besides me. I waved it threateningly at the birds, cutting pockets into the air before me. "SILENCE. BOW TO YOUR LORD!"

Still they did not yield. "KRAW, CAW, SQUAWWW, CAW." Ever relentless. Some even flapped their wings threateningly at me.

"Damn. Blasted knaves." I removed myself from the man's lifeless body. "Go ahead, eat your fill. I didn't even know crows diet like vultures." I hissed. Though they were oblivious to my slanders in the frenzy of hunger.

My plated, lackluster greaves clicked and shifted as I walked off. It felt strange to walk, so I floated. Then it felt strange to hover, so I descended.

~~~~

I understood now why I was walking. Feeling lost truly humbled a soul. It felt so foreign, so alien to be unsure. I have always been a man who knew what he desired, and what was required to attain the object of said desire. However, now...I did not even know where to begin. What measures might I undertake to win Plague Knight's favor? Would I have to barge into that decrepit, industrial castle of his and demand his affection? Or would I have to persist in waiting for him to come to me?

I sighed, peering up at the dry afternoon sky through my slitted visor. The faint form of a ghost flitted towards me. I glared at it, causing it to cower in fear. Despite that, it did not leave. When it began to talk to me, I tuned it out, engrossed in my thoughts. Why did the denizens of this land, why did my underlings feel so comfortable with approaching me? Why did Propeller Knight feel inclined to accost and show me kindness the other day? Why did Plague Knight not return to me? Why didn't those bloody birds fly away at my command, or this asinine shade flee at my glare?!

WHY DID I HAVE SO MANY DAMNED QUESTIONS?!

"H-hey, man, can you stop being all high and mighty and ignoring me, and just hear me out for a second?" The ghost mumbled in a dopey voice.

"LEAVE ME ALONE, you SIMPLETON. Can thou not see I am tormented?!"

"...What? Tormented? Maaaaan, you've got it all wrong. If anything, _I_ should be more tormented than you! You're alive _AND_ you're a king! But what am I? Nothing but a lame ghost living under this lame autocracy. I'm not down with that, man! I'M NOT DOWN WITH THE MAN!-"

"Hey, listen, calm down. If you wish for something to be resolved, just write it down and slip it into the complaint box, alright?"

"I WANT JUSTICE! YOU CAN'T PUT JUSTICE IN-..w-..wait, we have a complaint box?"

"...No."

"DOWN WITH THE SYSTEM! DOWN WITH THE SYSTEM AND IT'S CRUEL, NEGLIGENT RULER! WHO'S WITH ME?!"

A few other shades in our proximity turned their heads toward the direction of the rowdy one. Then their eyes fell on me. After a bit of pondering some shrugged and resumed their activities, or merely floated away. As did I. I didn't have to take this wraith's silly melodrama. I was a knight, not a king, dammit.

~~~~

Night finally fell on another dreary, forlorn day. So too did this knight fall in slumber after his daily vigil, though such a task was made difficult with the sheer amount of nocturnal activity. Skeletons, zombified and hissing with imaginary larynxes, prowled the barren cobblestone streets of the semi-tended Lich Yard like gravediggers on a Monday evening. Little ravens and frogs did the same, yet they were more akin to grave robbers given they were actually gaining something out of life.

When you were alive, the life you lead held much, much more meaning to it. The desire to survive and thrive was potent, so there were hardly ever any doubts that those meaningless, monotonous actions you performed each and every day of your humdrum existence were, in essence, purposeful (well, unless you were suicidal. But even then there dwelled little worms within you, somewhere, that would persist. Stubborn maggots which reaped joy from dragging your bones to and fro, from tossing your empty shell of flesh around like a rag doll, from unhinging your rusted jaws to sing notes of nonsense and reassure your fellows that you're doing "alright," that you have no call to cares, that you)-

Sweet Hades in hell.

I groaned in agitated anguish. "Being alive is truly terrible!" I hollered to an apathetic moon. "Why am I even alive again?"

No, wait. Why do I even bother? Where was I?

...Oh, yes. The living things. Things alive wished to live. Those dead also wished to live again, yet after a time they grew too accustomed to their state, and only knew how to be dead. Thus, those reborn, although alive, wished to be dead. What an ironic phenomenon. Just a few moons ago I truly yearned to hear my heart beat, to slay again, to feel heated, scarlet blood sift through my cold fingers and warm my very spirit to the bone. Yet now, although I was alive, I did not know how to make proper use of my life, add more purpose than being a reaper and terrorizing villagers (no matter how enjoyable that was) for the Enchantress's morbid amusement. (I didn't need her to tell me whom to smite and why! Though that was a different matter altogether.) I couldn't just live to survive, because I was already aware of the world beyond. And I couldn't just live to work, because I know how infinitesimal those efforts are in the larger scheme of life. And I couldn't just live to fulfill my own desires, either, because now my desires were either pointless or unimaginative.

I simply...didn't know how to be simple.

Yes, simple, as the crows that accosted me for food earlier. Simple, as my allies of the Order who believed there was meaning in pillaging and wreaking havoc on pitiful humans for sport, in acting as simple tools for the plot of a malicious mistress. Simple, as a certain mad scientist whose only aspirations revolve around creating and dispersing illnesses.

Perhaps...if anything, that knight could teach me the art of simplicity. That knight, who reeks and tastes of death, and is just as sweet.

I sighed, exhaling out a hot breath which I've held for much too long now. I tapped my thin fingers against the armrest of a cemetery bench, on which I was currently resting like some homeless bum. Suddenly and in the same agonizing manner as it had been for the past five or so days, my mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of Plague Knight. Thoughts of our encounters, of our discourse. Platonic thoughts, desperate thoughts.

...Especially desperate thoughts.

I squirmed on the bench, tossing side to side like a restless child in bed. It has been so long since I've felt these feelings, these urges. But towards him they were bountiful. Indeed this was infatuation. Infatuation for the pretty man who altered my life- erm, existence- for the better.

However, infatuation was only the beginning of his teachings in simplicity. I wanted more, and I knew he was more than ready to educate me. (But only in the lewdest of senses, obviously).

So why on earth had he not yet returned to me?! What could that little creature possibly be waiting for? Must I approach him myself?!

"GRAAAH!" I roared in aggravation. A loud, medium-tone crash reverberated through the empty yard as I slapped my palms against my forehead. It attracted the attention of some skittish skeleton, who almost released its cutlass in surprise. Though when it realized I was the source of its confusion, it shrugged its shoulders and padded along. Crows flew up to the stones near my bench.

No. No, I cannot approach him myself. In order to maintain my facade of mystique, I had to tone down my desperation when in Plague Knight's presence. I had to assure him that I was waiting, yet not eager, lest he not take me seriously.

...Lest he not take me seriously, as the ghosts, as the crows, and as the skeletons hadn't all day.

A raspy sigh escaped my lips when the realization dawned on me. How infuriating! Because of my damned obsession, my damned lust for the timid demolitionist I had been losing my cool, my aloof yet stern facade, and thus the respect and fear gained from my gross and ghastly denizens had diminished! "Argghh!" I bellowed a growl which again rumbled in the tranquil air of dusk. The bench supporting me creaked against the onslaught of my chafed kicks. Suddenly, my irritated mind began to wander once more. I was so damned _peeved_. I just wanted to release my anger, my aggression on a ghost, on a skeleton, on Plague Knight, on something!

Or...no, not Plague Knight. I couldn't do that to him. Unless...I could? Of course, I could do anything to anyone. I am dead after all. "No, dammit, you fool!" I hissed, slapping a hand against my forehead, then covering my eyes with my face.

But I can't help myself. This is silly. I laugh deeply, ominously. Now the crows finally decided to depart. I peered at them through the slits in my fingers as they frantically took to the skies, their sleek plumes glistening fiercely as if they were replacing the stars in the sky 'til twilight reared its ugly head. Dammit. I'm not going to woo him with that perverse attitude...

But...oh? Wait. What are these thoughts? Such curious thoughts; a little crow on his knees, begging. Begging for me to keep my distance, cornered against a wall, his hands cover his pale face and his eyes are glued to the floor. My hand reaches out to seize his wrists, both of them, and his trembling permeates my solid form.

...Desperate, desperate thoughts.

With one little tug I successfully lift the tiny crow off the ground. I turn him around and force him against the wall. A gasp escapes his chapped lips. I could've broken his nose, but I didn't care. Why didn't I care?

To where had my hand wandered?

I press myself firmly against the small of his back, fitting in like a ball in a socket, grasping his arms high above his head with one strong, fragile hand. A coarse giggle sounds through his ear, and I can see him shudder. He's not very discrete. Though that's more than fine with me. I'm elated.

My cold claws engulfed boiling flesh. It'd been a while since I've felt such warmth.

Standing on end like a cat's brittle fur, his tail feathers ruffle; something, restrained, struggles against them. His feet shift restlessly, though he remained rooted to the ground. Why didn't he hop away, the little crow? Why didn't he fly away? Were his wings clipped?

It was harder than marble. Or was that too generous a description?

At one point our breathing had almost synchronized, though when my fidgety hands unbuckle his belt, my breath hitches, and quickens in frequency. Now that they were loosened, I was able to infiltrate his trousers, brushing past his feathery hair. I am impressed by how excited he is. Impressed, yet not surprised. I was once an assassin, and not a few times had a male target of mine awkwardly acquired a...fearection, to be frank (I mean, it's not as though that was in the realm of impossibility). Slowly, deliberately, I caressed him, earning a few soft whimpers. I felt the sinews beneath his wrists gently tighten and shift.

It was difficult to keep a steady pace. I was erratic, fervent, starved. It has been far too long since I had felt this. It polluted my mind, all-consuming. Beauty in a simple impulse.

Of course, I needed more. So much more than this. I need to take him somewhere, to disrobe him, to take him. He clenches his teeth, though even then a ragged breath escapes and flees to the open air. But I still need more. I want to hear him sing. I remove my hand from his wrists, but he doesn't bother to lower his arms for some reason, embracing the wall. My fingers ease down his mandible, releasing all of those euphonious little songs of his. My dull laughter rings out in unison. One could turn the foulest of crows into a songbird, it seems.

Raising my lips to his ears once more, I rasp. "Why didn't you fly away, little crow? Are your wings clipped?"

Yet the only response I received was a groan: sudden, piercing, all too real, as I released, curling up. Horrified, any other skeletons and shades (when did they get there in the first place?) around me took that as a final cue to flee. Breathless and red-faced, I slumped back down against the bench, letting my ragged robes fall airily upon my spent flesh like the curtain closing on a show. And what a delightful show 'twas indeed.

Though I may have been relieved for the night, I was in no way relieved for all of those dreadful, ceaseless seconds to come.

**A/N 2: Wow that was something, huh? Heheh…eh…*sweats nervously***

**Also yea I know it's weird that Specter's fantasy was written in the present rather than past tense. I really didn't know how to go about writing that, so I just figured it might be in the present tense since the situation was hypothetical. If you have any alternative ideas on the matter, though, I'd really like to hear 'em!**


End file.
